Page 79 of My Monster’s Keeper

“I don’t know if we should be doing this,” I murmur, but I can barely think, barely get the words out past the moans.

He takes me deep into his mouth and then further impaling himself as deep as he can. Hot, tight heat.

His hand grips the base of my cock, stroking and pulling in a rhythmic pattern that has me thrusting into his mouth.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” I grit out.

Stix pulls off my cock, water pouring down his face, and smiles.

“You can’t.”

Those sinister eyes I hated so much when I first met him see into me now, and I don’t hate him. Not at all.

This is us.

I don’t even know what it is, but it feels right.

I guide him back to my cock. I thrust into his mouth, pulling him down on me, grunting with the effort, my jaw locked as I crash faster and faster into an explosion that has me crying out. I spurt into his hot mouth, dying inside and happily so.

Stix pulls off my cock, milking me with his hand as he stands, covering my mouth with his, grinding his own huge erection into me.

I slump, shuddering, my cock twitches, and he holds me up. Stroking me gently. Kissing my lips gently, my face and neck. Everywhere, I’m surrounded by him, and I don’t know what to think of it.

“Don’t think of it,” Stix murmurs.

I startle. “You can hear thoughts?”

“Only when you’re relaxed. And I haven’t been able to hear her since Diablos put that binding on her.”

I nuzzle into him, licking a wet drip off his throat.

He purrs.

It’s dark, it’s frightening, but it has my dick twitching.

“I didn’t hurt you.” I sag with relief.

“No, you didn’t,” Stix whispers and leans in close, his lips just a fraction of a distance away from mine. “But let’s try again just to be sure.”

Chapter 23

Becky

Ilike them. Frost has a dark sense of humour and absolutely loves comedies with people who get hurt. I’ve yet to show him the wonders of YouTube, but no doubt I’d lose him for days. His laugh is absolutely the most entrancing thing I’ve ever heard.

Stix is fascinated by all things human. He wants to know everything. He asks a million questions and always has one more. Stix wants to know why, when, where, what, how, and more. His questions don’t stop, and I love it.

Wilder isn’t interested in the ways of humans or anything on TV. He’s interested in the environment and the wildlife. But he’s quiet, and if you sit with him long enough, he will start telling you about his world and what it was like. He’s a quiet observer.

Puppy’s favourite question is “can I eat it?” I feel bad telling him no all the time. Of all of them, he’s the one who struggles to learn the ways of my people. He doesn’t understand the rules, the societies. He can’t understand our laws and why we do the things we do.

Puppy gets frustrated and leaves more often than not, and I’m struggling to find a way to teach him where he doesn’t end up feeling awful. I can see he’s trying.

He yanks on my heart strings on the seven-day mark after another round of ‘you can’t eat that’. I take his face during another tantrum and kiss him. He remains still, not kissing me back, but I can feel a different tension fill him.

“You do you, Puppy. No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to. Not even me.”

The tension eases from him, and he lets his body relax against mine, even going so far as to curl his arms around me.